<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>fireflies by Asvan</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23535166">fireflies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asvan/pseuds/Asvan'>Asvan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Disco Elysium (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Mild Language, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:20:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23535166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asvan/pseuds/Asvan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>EMPATHY — You feel like crying. Again. But that’s ok. Maybe you haven’t cried in a long while, before that — and now the waterlock is broken and the river flows freely from your heart and into the world. Perhaps the world did not want the river, but there’s no stopping it now.</p><p>- Let it all out<br/>- VOLITION [Formidable] — Try to hold the tears back.</p><p>VOLOTION [Formidable: Failure; -1 – you are alone, it’s ok] — You try to choke it down, but it seeps through anyway — the dam of your will eroded by tiredness and the city whispering gently into your ears – drip! drip! drip! as you stumble to your new old bed and flop on it with a resounding thud.</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGfoPt7-LN0">Heavily ispired by this track</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fireflies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>YOU — It’s raining. Has been, for a while now. The walls of your shack protect you from the elements, but not from the noise they bring. Well, at least they try their best. The roof could use some work — a soft drip! drip! drip! of rainwater to your floor might drive you mad sometime in the future. Well, more mad then you are currently. Go find a bucket. Be useful.</p><p>PERCEPTION [Medium: Success] — There is no bucket here. But you could use that bowl with a razor (dump the razor) and toss the water out every half an hour. Annoying, but at least you’ll have something to do.</p><p>INLAND EMPIRE — You are not going to sleep anyway.</p><p>SHIVERS — The city breathes, content, all around you. Lights shine across the canal and further inland – the night is just starting out there, people crawling out of their lair-cocoons, spreading their still-damp wings, itching to get closer to the neon lights and live a little. It’s a good thing that open flames are no longer used to light the streets. More *humane* that way.</p><p>INLAND EMPIRE — What *is* humane, anyway? Do you even know? The patchwork quilt of your knowledge about *humanity* is threadbare, and the Pale is seeping through the holes.</p><p>EMPATHY — You feel like crying. Again. But that’s ok. Maybe you haven’t cried in a long while, before that — and now the waterlock is broken and the river flows freely from your heart and into the world. Perhaps the world did not want the river, but there’s no stopping it now.</p><ol>
<li>- Let it all out</li>
<li><strong>- VOLITION [Formidable] — Try to hold the tears back.</strong></li>
</ol><p>VOLOTION [Formidable: Failure; -1 – you are alone, it’s ok] — You try to choke it down, but it seeps through anyway — the dam of your will eroded by tiredness and the city whispering gently into your ears – drip! drip! drip! as you stumble to your new old bed and flop on it with a resounding thud.</p><p>ENDURANCE — You are so tired. And you cannot sleep. You want to – so, so badly – but you cannot.</p><p>PERCEPTION (Touch) [Trivial: Success] — Your pillow is damp with tears.</p><p>EMPATHY — It’s ok. It’s ok. Sh-h-h.</p><p>PAIN THRESHOLD [Heroic: Failure] — NO! No. It’s not! Why does it hurt so much? Life shouldn’t hurt so much. It’s unfair.</p><p>INLAND EMPIRE — An insurmountable wave of loathing rises, crashing down on everything in its way. *You* are in its way as well. Some might argue that you *are* its way. You should break into the church and kill yourself there.</p><p>INLAND EMPIRE — You’ve found your gun. You even have a bullet.</p><p>VOLITION — You have a case, detective. Killing oneself is detrimental to duty.</p><ol>
<li><strong>- Go to the church</strong></li>
<li>- Try to fall asleep</li>
</ol><p>YOU — You get up. The bed squeaks from under you, the pillow accusatory and wet.</p><ol>
<li><strong>- I hate myself so fucking much.</strong></li>
<li>- I should have drowned in that fucking channel.</li>
</ol><p>YOU — You are crying again. Or have you never stopped? In any case, it’s not really helping. What we’re looking at is a beginning of a feat of hysteria. You don’t even *have* a uterus, you dumb fuck, so it’s linguistically incorrect. Just hurry up and kill yourself already. You are *pathetic*.</p><ol>
<li>- ENDURANCE [Challenging] — Try to hold your breath while you’re passing by the washerwoman</li>
<li><strong>- Fuck it, who cares, I’m going to die anyway, let her hear me cry</strong></li>
</ol><p>YOU — You are not holding anything back. Fuck it. You’re an orchestra of suffering, let the world hear you and weep.</p><p>WASHERWOMAN — She follows you with an unreadable expression. It might be kind. It might not. The street lamp casts deep shadows over her wrinkled face.</p><p>THE STREET LIGHT — It’s blinking unevenly, an old lamp, most likely. Or your eyes are giving out.</p><p>WASHERWOMAN — “Officer!” – She says, softly but forcefully, inclining you to halt.</p><p>INLAND EMPIRE — She reminds you of your mother, whom you’ve forgotten entirely. It is a sad thought to have — and so more tears well up. Soldier on, you tear-making machine, you mechanism of suffering incarnate, go forth — and right into the ocean. Salt to salt, dust to dust. Let the mutated fish take communion of your alcohol-soaked flesh.</p><p>WASHERWOMAN — “Come sit with me”, - she says, expression indiscernible under the dim light, and you feel like you’re forced to oblige.</p><ol>
<li>- VOLITION [Heroic] — Go gentle into that good night</li>
<li><strong>- Sit with her</strong></li>
</ol><p>YOU — As you decide to sit down, you notice that there’s only one chair.</p><ol>
<li>Try to find some crate to sit on</li>
<li>Climb back up the stairs and sit on the wooden porch of your hut</li>
<li><strong>Flop on the ground right next to her</strong></li>
</ol><p>YOU — You feel too tired to do any sort of climbing or searching, so you just drop the horrible rotting mass that is you next to her chair.</p><p>PERCEPTION (Touch) — It’s cold.</p><p>INLAND EMPIRE — Why wait? Kill yourself right here.</p><p>EMPATHY — This woman’s life was eventful. She wouldn’t suffer much if you ended yours right here. And cleaning up would be easier.</p><p>WASHERWOMAN — “It’s late, officer. And the weather isn’t much. You should go back inside, light a fire, dry up a bit and go to sleep. Police business is important business. You have to get up early, don’t you?”</p><ol>
<li><strong>[Reach for the gun.]</strong></li>
</ol><p>WASHERWOMAN – She watches you intently, as you fumble around trying to reach for the gun, and when you finally get it out, hands shaking, she says: “Why don’t you give it to me, officer? For safe keeping, yes? Till morning”.</p><p>AUTHORITY — IT’S YOUR GUN. YOU ARE A POLICE OFFICER! YOU CANNOT *GIVE* YOUR GUN AWAY!</p><ol>
<li><strong>- AUTHORITY [Challenging] – Explain to the woman that the gun is *police property* and cannot be given away to civilians, even for a time.</strong></li>
<li>- Give up and give her the gun. It’s all meaningless, anyway.</li>
</ol><p>AUTHORITY [Challenging: Fail] – WELL, IF SHE WANTS THE GUN SO MUCH SHE CAN PRY IT FROM YOUR COLD DEAD HANDS!</p><ol>
<li><strong>[Shoot yourself in the mouth.]</strong></li>
</ol><p>YOU — As you push the gun to the back of your throat and pull the trigger you hear a *click* … and nothing happens.</p><p>ENCYCLOPEDIA [Easy: Success] — Usually one *loads* a gun before firing.</p><p>WASHERWOMAN — “Well, in that case you can keep the gun. But please, try to get some sleep, officer”.</p><p>EMPATHY [Medium: Success] — She’s shocked by what happened here, but tries to maintain her composure not to agitate you further.</p><p>COMPOSURE [Godly: Failure] — *Your* composure is shit. You are shaking uncontrollably, snot and tears streaming down your blotched face.</p><p>AUTHORITY — You are a disgrace to the uniform.</p><ol>
<li><strong>- VOLITION [Heroic] – Get up.</strong></li>
</ol><p>VOLITION [Heroic: Success] — You struggle back to your feet.</p><p>SHIVERS — The city far beyond continues to party, unaware of your existence and delightfully self-centered in its carnival decadence. The people circle the neon lights, flying high on the spirit winds and youthful exuberance.</p><p>INLAND EMPIRE — There is no place for you there. But you *are* still a part of this city.</p><p>ENDURANCE — Now go get some sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>